F - Two Worlds
by pen.charmer.13
Summary: As the title suggests, it's a tale of two worlds, one locked inside the other. Why locked, you ask? Because it's hidden away in a little book by little Spike. If ever it be revealed, utter embarrassment would ensue, so Spike guards it with his very life. But what is in the book is a whole new world, a story with a simple message, meant to be read only by the mare of Spike's dreams.


# My Little Pony: The Fan Fiction #

# Two Worlds #

# Chapter 1 - Prologue

The sun dawns upon the land of Tyriel, its rays shining upon its many cottages and shingle-roofed houses. In a rather large segment of the suburbs live many of the peasants, living with a peaceful and quiet life. They didn't complain, nor did they make much of a fuss with what they had despite the many, many wealthy salesmen and nobles just outside of the neighborhood. In one of the alleys lies a makeshift hut, belonging to a young boy who had even less than what many of the people there had. He was called Stefan, an orphan who was taken in by a kind owner of a bookstore. Despite the efforts made to lend him a helping hand, Stefan refused any and all forms of help, preferring to build a name and a life for himself, by himself. Nevertheless, he fit in with the others seamlessly, taking a spot for his home in an alley between two houses. The way he lived, he was pretty much content with it. The food he ate, the clothes he wore, the jobs he worked – all were to his favor, more or less. But one thing he truly loathed, and truly wanted, was to live outside of the suburbs and enter an entirely new world just right outside the gates. But out there was a new world where peasants like him weren't welcome, and he envied every second of being with those people out there in that place, where he wouldn't be called a peasant no more.

In the meanwhile, in a faraway kingdom lives a beautiful princess named Clara. She lived the high life, she loved the high life, but she loathed the high life. Now, one would think it strange to think that someone would love and loathe the high life, but that was just how Clara was. Her home was in the kingdom of Cardyth, in a palace with extravagant ornaments and decorations, and even tighter security. With such riches, Clara and her family were essentially painters with the very world as their canvas. Her parents would ride about the streets with the kingdom's fastest horses, and wear beautiful clothing with intricate detailing. However, Clara was almost the exact opposite. She spent her days in her massive bedroom, scribbling notes and sketches on any piece of parchment she could find. Her parents were at first worried for her queer hobby, knowing that young women like her would be roaming about the streets without a care in the world. But that was until Clara made those sketches come to life – in the form of beautiful dresses and suits. Yes, Clara loved fashion; and one would even go as far as to say that she was the very art. Her designs were like a fingerprint – each one different from the other – and eventually, she became the kingdom's fashion trend-setter, with her designs almost instantly catching on. Her parents' worry were gone in a flash after this happened, and all was well.  
But one day, something happened which would forever change the lives of these two people…

On that very day, Clara's parents were to have a diplomatic meeting with the kingdom of Tyriel, who was to host a lavish banquet to commemorate the event. Clara looked out the window, having no ideas stirring up in her mind at all. She was determined to make a new gown design by the end of the week, but so far nothing new had entered her mind. Hearing of her parents leaving for Tyriel – a kingdom better off called a city – she made up her mind to join them, hoping to take inspiration from her experience. Along the way, she happened upon beautifully quiet landscapes, a far deviation from the hustle and bustle of the kingdom behind her. Those landscapes alone were enough to fuel her imagination once again, and for the rest of the journey, she took note after note, hoping to be able to weave a new design by the time she returned home.  
On the other side of the story, Stefan was busily helping along with the others in preparation for the banquet. The entire kingdom was abuzz with the news, since it was such a historical event in Tyriel's history. Stefan had no idea why this was so, but thought this would be a good opportunity to work in places once restricted to mere peasants like him, and to earn some extra coin for surviving the rest of the winter. Little did he know that this event was the very first time that royalty from the outer kingdoms would enter Tyriel, for the kingdom was for a long time considered petty and unimportant. This was the day that all of Tyriel would break open and reveal the flourishing kingdom that had been off the map for centuries upon centuries.

Not long after, the horns sounded their alarm. It was time. The Cardythian royal family had arrived. The royal family enters the kingdom by way of a beautiful carriage, with six white horses pulling the weight. The people stood by the sidewalks, looking on with greatest curiosity and wonder. After all, it had been the first time royalty entered the kingdom from the outside. Stefan was one of the many people that lined the street, but he didn't seem to find anything so wonderful about the carriage. All he knew was that they were royalty, and were evidently wealthy. But that was until he spotted something from the corner of his eye.  
"It was the most beautiful thing in the entire world," he said to the bookstore owner later that midnight. "She was like a flower in a wasteland, a diamond in the rough, a sheep among wolves – she was a miracle. But something I noticed, but only for a split-second, was her dazzling blue eyes. It sparkled like a diamond. I'm not really sure, but for that one moment I saw her eyes so clearly…I need to see her again."

Who was that young woman that he spoke of? It was obviously none other than the future queen of Cardyth, Clara. However, little did he know that the only reason for him to see her eyes was for them to have direct eye contact – which simply means that Clara, too, noticed him. In one of the many notes she scribbled on, she wrote, "Find and meet the peasant with the green eyes. Do not forget to wear casual attire." Neither knew nor even recognized each other, but somehow they were destined to meet, if not on that day.

"What are you doing there, Spike? I thought you were outside doing whatever it is you do. Now that I think about it, what do you do anyway?"

"Twilight, can't you see I'm busy here?" he complains, the look on his face evidently shaken up.

"You don't look like you're busy," Twilight argues.

"I'm…I'm just reading a book. See?" Spike says, holding up a book.

"Um, Spike, that book is empty."

"Why do you care?"

"Because it isn't like you."

"Well, if I recall correctly, you weren't quite like yourself some time ago. Now, don't you think that I forgot about that." Twilight flinches a little, her mind flashing back to a particular time when she really wasn't like herself.

"Still, you're acting stranger than normal. What is going on?"

"I'm just reading a book, is all. Nothing wrong with that, as far as I can tell."

"But the book is empty," Twilight argues again, flipping through the pages. "How would anypony expect that to be-"

"I already told you, Twilight. It isn't empty."

"This...this is your handwriting, isn't it Spike? Are you really...writing a book?"

"Does it matter, Twilight? It's not like you're going to read it...are you?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I'll read it!"

"Give it back! I haven't even finished it yet!" Spike yells. Twilight then starts running about the room, trying to avoid him, who doesn't seem to be doing anything. However, once Twilight ran near him again, his tail grabbed her arm, pulling her back and knocking her down. Without any look of remorse or shame on his face, he very cordially asks for the book back, albeit in a very serious tone. Twilight hands the book back to him, and he helps her up. Moments later, he was out the door before Twilight got to say anything.

At around noon, Spike was yet again writing on his book, this time atop Applejack's barn. He started scribbling this and writing that, but his peace was broken with a Southern voice coming from below.

"Spike? That you? What and **how** in tarnation did ya get up there? Ain't it cold up there?"

"I'm fine, Applejack. Just looking for some peace and quiet is all."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm **fine**, Applejack. I could hold my own up here. That is, unless you know someplace else that is this quiet without being freezing cold...do you?"

"...I guess you're right about that. Alright, I'll leave ya up there then, sugarcube. Just let me know if ya need anything." After she trots off to Faust knows where, Spike breathes a sigh of relief and continues writing.

Tyriel's banquet was now in full swing. Every person, from the richest noble to the poorest peasant, was cordially invited. Everyone had a good time, and both rich and poor sang, danced, and laughed in unity, treating their financial differences as little as a grain of sand. Clara was there, staying close to her parents most of the time. As it was her very first time in a new kingdom, she wasn't quite accustomed to the new sights and sounds. But she managed to fit in well later on, and she even made a few friends.

In the meanwhile Stefan was heartily helping the waiters distribute the refreshments, and managed to sneak a couple of shots while he was at it. But eventually, his clandestine drinking bout was soon discovered and the chefs and other waiters were worried that he might mess up and embarrass himself and the others. However, he was quite tolerant to alcohol, and continued working without anything noticeably uncanny in his demeanor. That was until he served his drink to Clara. Having already had a couple of glasses, Clara looked quite flushed and slightly disoriented. When she took a glass from Stefan's tray, she accidentally spilled it all over Stefan's suit.

"Goodness, are you alright? I'm really, really sorry for what happened. It's just that I-"

The two meet eyes yet again. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, and each of them realized that they had found what they had been looking for all day - each other. "It's alright," Stefan replies. "I could get dressed when I get back. These aren't mine, anyway."

"But I'm really, really sorry. Is there anything I could do for you? Anything at all?"

"You should really lay off on the drinking. It won't do you any good anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some clothes to change into, and some drinks to serve." Stefan leaves without another word, and heads towards the kitchen, leaving Clara simply standing there, almost dazed. She wasn't able to see him again after that. At least, not until midnight.

The energy was dying down, and most of the guests have already left. Clara was with her parents now, pen and paper in hand. Stefan was still there, assisting with the cleaning since he had nothing better to do. He stacked plates, washed them, and left them to dry. The others noticed his unusual vigor to work even at that time of night, but they quickly passed it off as a result of his drinking. Clara spots the guy with the green eyes as he walks toward their table to take a few empty glasses, and walks right after him. "Wait," she said, almost shouting. She most likely didn't pay attention as to how loud she was speaking - she was more or less drunk, after all.

"What is it?"

"It's you...you were the guy I saw earlier this afternoon, weren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do! You stared back at me while I was there. You...you were the guy with the green eyes."

"What of it? Does it come off to you as strange?"

"Of course it does! It's like you're a-"

"Monster?"

"No! I mean, well, yes, but not in a way that I-"

"Call me whatever you want. They used to call me that back then, and I kinda thought it was a good thing, so you don't have to worry about anything. It's getting late, though, so I should probably get going. By light of first day they'll kick me out anyway."

"Kick you out? Why?"

"I'm a peasant. Those disgraces they call nobles think we don't deserve to be here, so we live in the suburbs, near the east gate. They consider us filthy and disgusting, but they're like us one and the same no matter how you look at it."

"I never realized that. I'm sorry," was all she said. But then a thought instantly came to her mind. "Before you go, can I ask you your name?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's pointless, and wastes time. I just don't see the point."

"I just wanted to know, that's all," she said, her head hung low.

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to get at here, but I just don't want to get in trouble. You already know what I look like, and if you know my name, you could have me thrown into the dungeon at a whim. I'm just trying to stay away from trouble."

"You mean you're trying to stay away from me because I'm royalty?"

"Exactly. Now, I really should go. To lighten up your heart a bit, my name's Stefan. Nice meeting you." He turns around, and runs off.

"Damn, it really is cold up here," Spike complains to himself, still up on the barn roof. He closes his book, jumps down, and starts heading towards the library for someplace warm. A remarkably strong wind brews from the east and sweeps through Ponyville like a tsunami. With such weather, flying is impossible without freezing oneself to death, and without proper winter clothes, walking is difficult as well. But even with such conditions, a dragon would be able to go through it without much of a problem, right? Not in Spike's case. He continues trudging through the snow on the way to the library, when suddenly he slips and slides on an ice-encrusted street. He goes on and on, until he bumps into a wall. That wall turned out to be the Carousel Boutique.

Rarity, hearing the loud thud, goes out to investigate, but when she found the source of the thud, she was greeted with a tall, shadowy figure, veiled by the howling wind. She almost faints from the shock, and darts home screaming. Spike hears the voice, and tries to follow it. He finds the door to the house, and knocks. Rarity, still horrified at the sight, paces the floor nervously. Sweetie Belle runs down the stairs and asks her sister what's wrong. "Sweetie Belle, could you do me a favor and get me the frying pan? I think we have a little situation here," her sister request nervously and quietly. Later, with frying pan in hand, she tiptoes slowly over to the door, and opens it. Spike enters, but before he was able to say a word, he was smacked with the frying pan and falls to the floor.

Spike opens his eyes. His vision was still blurry, but at least clear enough for him to notice that he was looking straight at a chandelier. "Where in Equestria am I?" he said.

"You're just in the library, Spike. But are you okay? Rarity was really worried," explains Twilight.

"You...you didn't read my book, did you?"

"No...in fact, I don't know where your book is."

"WHAT?!"

Spike gets up on his feet. Despite an excruciating headache as expected of a whack to the head with a frying pan, the last few words he heard were enough to get him on his feet without feeling any pain whatsoever. "Spike, you can't just go out looking for it! There's a snowstorm out there!"

"I know my way home," was all he said before he walks out the door yet again.

The snowstorm was this time even stronger, but that didn't stop Spike from recovering his book and in turn preventing a lot of embarrassment from the six if they found it. He knew that what he had written was to be kept from prying eyes, but it turned out that his crusade for peace and quiet was to lead to his 'doom.'  
His search lasted for almost an hour already, and now Twilight's worry has overcome her very own caution. She paces the floor, thinking about where the book might have been left. If she knew where, then she might be able to find him and help him find the book. But in the meanwhile Spike had reached Rarity's boutique and examined the outer walls closely. His tall figure passing by the windows was enough to scare Sweetie Belle out of her own socks - that is, if she wore any.

Eventually, Spike was able to find his precious book, mostly covered in the snow, but otherwise intact. He quickly opens the book to examine its pages. Much to his relief, not a page was wet. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turns around and heads home...or at least, tried to. The blizzard was so relentless, so powerful, that even he - a dragon - couldn't light a flame. Struggling to at least get proper footing, he had no choice but to try and walk like a totally feral dragon would. Much to his surprise, it did him good, and after quite some time, he managed to crawl his way home to the Golden Library. Twilight had already donned her cloak when he burst through the door, a layer of snow coating his bare scales.

"See? I told you I'd...find my...way...home..." he says before finally collapsing on the ground.

Stefan had finally returned home after a long night of washing dishes and serving drinks. He'd had a few drinks already, and he was more than ready to hit the hay. The night was uncannily chilly, and sleeping on his makeshift bed of two patched-up quilts and a pillow was harder than he thought. He tosses and turns about on his bed, until he very angrily shouts into his pillow. The cold was too much to bear, and his meager bedding was hardly enough to keep him warm. That was until the bookstore owner passed by his alleyway home, and noticed him shaken up and very frustrated. "Hey, Stefan," she said, "you should come inside. Don't you know how cold it will be tonight? If you stay here, someone might find you frozen by tomorrow morning." Stefan looks up at her, holding out her hand. He didn't seem to have much of a choice, as he'd either save his pride and quite possibly freeze to death, or risk that pride and live another day. He reluctantly chose the latter, and they both enter the bookstore.

The bookstore was undeniably warm the moment he stepped in. He hadn't been inside it at night before, as usually he'd be doing something else to pass the time before he starts yawning. The store was pretty much the same as always, with books neatly arranged in their shelves as always. On one corner there was a rather peculiar piece of furniture - or rather, what seems to be a bed split in half to serve as a bench of sorts. A small table was there as well. Not having any idea what the set might have been, I asked the bookkeeper. A simple explanation was given to me as an answer: "I don't know what it is either, but I it was a good place to start a conversation over a cup of tea in the morning."  
On another side there was the soft glow of a fire - enclosed by a beautiful, timely hearth - serving as the only source of light in the room. On a far corner was a door, most likely the bookkeeper's living quarters. She told him to sit on the bench and wait a little bit. She enters her quarters, only to come out with a rather heavy quilt a couple of minutes later. "There," she said, "you should probably be able to sleep by now."

And he did.

The next morning, Stefan wakes up to the aroma of jasmine tea. He rolls over to his side, and sees a tea set neatly placed on the small table only a couple of feet away from him. He gets up, and folds up the quilt. The bookkeeper suddenly comes out of her room, and noticing him making his 'bed,' she rushes over to help him. "Sasha, it's fine. I could handle this on my own," he says.

"I guess you really *are* all grown up, Stefan," she sighs. "I guess I've been treating you more like a mother than the way I should - as your friend. I guess taking care of you so many years ago kinda grew on me, and I think I got used to it."

"It's fine. You did your best, and I really appreciate that. But I guess you should lay off on being a mother. It won't look good for you, seeing as you're no more than five years older than I am. You should really go out more, live life a little."

"Thanks for your advice, but I'm worried about the store. Business has been pretty good the past months, and even a noble or two would come down here in peasantly attire to buy some of our books. Risking that by leaving the store isn't a good idea," argues Sasha.

"I could run the store while you're out," he suggested. "I mean, I've lived here for most of my childhood, and I've known much about the way this place works. I could handle my own, remember? Handling a simple bookstore wouldn't be too hard."

"Are you sure?" she asks worriedly. "Are you sure you're going to run the store, even for just today?"

"Absolutely. I care for you like you care for me, and you staying here all day without any really good memories outside isn't good for anyone."

"...Alright," she finally says in agreement. "Just sound the whistle when you need anything, okay?"

"Sure, no problem. Have fun, Sasha." She takes her hat and walks out the door.

As time passed, so did the people; and every now and then someone would waltz in, grab a book, and sit on the bench. He was able to have quite a lot of conversations while he was at his job, and he realized that working there wasn't so bad after all. In fact, he actually *liked* it. But later, a certain young woman entered the bookstore - it was Clara.  
Stefan tries his best to hide away from her, but ultimately fails when she finds him heading towards Sasha's quarters. "Stefan? Is that you?" Clara asks. Those words penetrate through Stefan's mind like an arrow, stopping him in his tracks. For a moment he stopped moving, which to him felt like forever. He knew that there was no escape, so he reluctantly turned around like a caught thief.  
"Stefan! I never thought I'd see you here. What brings you to this place?"

Without anything to hide, he found himself telling the straight truth without even giving a second thought: "I work here."

"You do? Then that's perfect! I was wondering if you know w certain woman named Sasha. Since you work here, you should know about her, so-"

"She's my sister. Well, much like my sister. She and her family took me in, and they've been my 'family' ever since."

"I see. If she happens to drop by, could you give her this? I just wanted to thank her for the many lovely books that she lent me at the banquet last night." Clara takes out a little red box and hands it to him.

"Do you need anything, though?" asks Stefan. "You're probably leaving really soon, so while you're still here, could I get you anything? A good novel, perhaps?"

"No, it's alright; I think I've read enough books for one day. Oh yes, I almost forgot," she says, taking out a tiny box. "This is for you." Stefan opens it, and sees a green ring.

"I can't take this, Clara. You're too generous."

"Please, just take it. It's just a little thing for me to remember you. See this bracelet on my wrist? They're supposed to be worn together, because it brings good health - though actually wearing either of them is fine. I just wanted to give this to you as a parting gift so that I might remember you. Hopefully, we would meet again someday. Tyriel is such a wonderful kingdom, and I would really like to return if I have the chance.  
But now, I guess I have to say goodbye. But if you can, could you do me a favor for me? Could you keep the ring? I might want it back the next time we meet."

"Sure. I think I could promise you that. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"No, I don't think I would need anything, but I would really like a pocketbook as a memento."

"A pocketbook, huh? Well, I think I could find something here," Stefan says as he starts to rummage through the books. "Dammit," he whispers sharply to himself.

"What's wrong?"

"We...we kinda ran out of pocketbooks."

"Oh...is that so? Well, I guess I could do without one."

"Wait," he says, heading to the bench, opens his satchel, and takes out a leather-bound pocketbook. "I think this should do. It's mine, actually, and it's also the first book I bound. The binding work is a little shoddy, but you could have it rebound with fresh leaves when you get home."

"Why, thank you, Stefan," she said, holding the pocketbook in her hands. "But this pocketbook has so many memories into their pages...I couldn't possibly take this away from you. Are you...are you really doing this for me?"

"If I wasn't doing it for you, then I wouldn't it be giving it to you, now, would I?" Stefan chuckles in reply. "It's yours. Just promise me one thing, Clara."

"What is it?"

"The next time we meet...could you give that back to me?"

"Of course."

And so, Clara walks out the door, but not without waving goodbye to the guy with the green eyes. A tear starts to form in her eye, knowing not when they will meet again, or *if* they will meet again. But looking towards the future, she hopes with all of her heart that she will be able to see the guy with eyes as green as the deep jade bracelet on her wrist.

**A/N:** Well, what you saw back there was a new fanfic I've been working on. Right now it looks pretty rough around the edges, but hopefully I will be able to chip those off in the next chapters. I've been wanting to do a story like this for some time, but to be honest, I've never done something quite like this before. The reason behind all this is because of my sister, who's been bugging me because yeah, I write MLP fanfics, which is pretty much a far cry from teens like me would do. Of course, I brushed it off for some time, knowing that I **am** different, and might actually stay this way.

But what happened now? Well, I decided I would take a step back, and hopefully revisit the little stories I used to write years ago. Long before MLP, I've been interested in writing original stories, but never had the inspiration to keep writing beyond 30 pages, or 10,000 words (whichever comes first). But only a couple of years ago, MLP pretty much changed all of that, and I was pretty happy with how "Ink" turned out. But when I started to make that supposed "trilogy" of sorts...I ran out of fuel after the second installment and I just didn't know how to lead the story. So there, it's pretty much a dead end.

So I back-tracked a little, and here I am now, at a crossroads. This crossroads turned out to be the crossover which I haven't named yet...which you just read up there. It's a crossover between the human world and the MLP world, serving as an anchor to the MLP fanfic roots I've taken, and the new stories I'm planning on writing. You could even say I'm writing two stories at once here. But there's something that ties the human world to the MLP world...and I think you've already read about that a few minutes ago. It's a challenge I'm facing throughout the story, since the human world has a story of its own that isn't as deeply connected to the MLP world as it should. That, and I've been having a hard time switching to the styles of each - with the human world being a love story set in the Victorian era, and the MLP world being this really plain story which I've yet to improve and build upon. Hopefully, you're going to like it, so you should expect another one in three weeks.

Yes, I have my deadlines now, and it's really bugging me since I've got other things to write, as well - I've got games to play, screenshots to take, and a Battlefield 4 review to finish by the end of the week. Plus, I have a headphone review to write up. Not only that, I'm also going on a two-week vacation, so you might not want to expect a chapter coming out until next month. I'm doing all I possibly can to keep this story going, and hopefully this will be a one-off, so don't expect my sequels because I write really badly from that point on. Well, like always, RRFFE!


End file.
